by Bart Tracer
“Uh huh! I told him 1 o’clock would be fine. That’ll leave us enough time to grab a quick lunch before you go.”
“Um… yeah. Okay. Thanks for setting that up for me.” I rubbed my face, then swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching my arms above my head and groaning.
“No problem!” she asked cheerily.
“So, what are your plans today?”
“Well, for starters, there’s a little art gallery down the street I want to check out. Supposed to be really nice. After that, I’m going to do a little shopping at one of the boutiques Carlos recommended and then, I guess, just lay around and catch a few rays on the beach!”
“Hmm. Sounds fun!”
“I sure hope so. But Ken?”
“Yeah?”
“Hurry up and grab a shower, baby,” she tossed her head toward the open door behind her. “I’m starving!”
“Aye aye!” I grinned, marching toward the bathroom.
A couple of hours later, I found myself cruising down the backstreets of town in a silver, not-so-new Lincoln Town Car, looking through windows at the various buildings being pointed out to me by a man I had just met.
Jonathon Smythe, the museum curator was a middle-aged man with small round glasses, dressed in a suit complete with a bowtie. His thin, graying hair he wore slicked back on his skull. He looked for all the world like a cliché of a museum curator, something from an old movie, but he was easily the most knowledgeable tour guide I had ever had.
From the history of the native Americans who first lived in the area to the Spanish Conquistadors who explored it beginning in the 1500s to the names of the individual architects who had created the buildings that interested me, there seemed to be no question that could stump him. Heck, he even knew where all the best restaurants were located along that stretch of beach, and who owned them. It was astonishing.
This sleepy little coastal town was full of architectural treasures. I lost count of all the exquisite buildings he pointed out to me, from beach houses to sumptuous estates, old abandoned warehouses to carefully restored Art Deco office buildings. There was even a now-shuttered theater, where he told me his grandparents had gone to see Bela Lugosi’s Dracula when it was originally released in 1931.
It was fascinating stuff. Really. Any other day, I would’ve been spellbound. But today, as we drove along beneath the clear Florida sky, it was difficult for me to keep my mind on what he was saying. Time and again, I was forced to ask him to repeat something, because my mind had wandered once more. The enormity of what had happened last night, of what I had admitted to my wife, was a distraction I was having a hard time ignoring.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about her, wondering where she was, what she was doing and more importantly, what effect this was going to have on our marriage. My God! After all these years of secrecy, I had told my wife that I fantasized about her having sex with other men! It was difficult to imagine how we could just return to normal after such a thing.
Ultimately, I told myself that there was no changing it. What was done was done, and I would simply have to deal with the consequences when the time came. With a Herculean effort, I forced my mind to focus on the curator’s gracious and informative tour.
Three hours later, when he pulled up in front of the Hotel Sandpiper, I thanked him profusely for his kindness.
“Not at all! Not at all! I enjoyed it!” he assured me with a broad smile. “And if you get time, bring your wife down to the museum. I’m sure she’d be interested in our art collection!”
When I glanced back at him, he saw the confusion in my eyes and held up a hand. “Carlos,” he explained, nodding toward the hotel. “He told me that she is an artist.”
“Carlos. Of course!” I smiled. “Yes. We may have to pay you a visit!”
“Please do! Well, I guess I’d better get back to work. I hope you have a lovely vacation.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
He gave me a nod as I closed the door, then drove down the long driveway. I stood on the curb, watching until he was out of sight, then made my way up the walkway to the front door of the hotel.
Carlos smiled warmly when I stepped into the lobby. “Señor Wilson! Did you enjoy your tour of our little town?”
I crossed to him and offered him my hand over the counter. “Yes, Carlos, immensely! Thank you so much for arranging it! Mr. Smythe was extremely thorough!”
“Oh, I am so glad, señor!”
“My wife. Has she returned from her shopping trip?”
“Sí. About an hour ago. I believe she is upstairs. Would you like me to ring your room?”
“That won’t be necessary, Carlos. I’m heading up now. And thank you again for arranging my meeting with Mr. Smythe!”
“Not at all. Not at all! I am here to help. Please do not hesitate to ask if you have any other wishes.”
“Yes, thank you!” I nodded, slipping into the elevator.
Jenny wasn’t in our suite. But she had been there. There were three shopping bags lying on the remade bed in the bedroom, each from a separate local shop. Apparently, the shopping trip had been a success!
Well, if she wasn’t in the room, that probably meant that my lovely wife was down on the beach, sunning herself. I opened the glass door to the balcony and stepped outside.
I shaded my eyes against the bright sun and scanned the virgin sand beneath me, looking for Jenny. The beach was packed with people, playing frisbee, swimming in the ocean, and lying on blankets. But, try as I might, I couldn’t find my wife.
It wasn’t until I had looked at everyone on the beach for the third time that I recognized her, and small wonder! I was looking for a lone woman. But, Jenny was surrounded by a small knot of young men!
The jealousy hit me like a jab to the gut, making me feel tight and tingly inside. I watched her laughing and talking with them far below and my heart began to pound like a jackhammer. They were too far away for me to hear their words, but her body language told me that she was enjoying the attention they were giving her.
Her swimsuit was one I had never seen before, a bright teal blue bikini that left little to the imagination, even at this distance. Glancing quickly back at the shopping bags on the bed, I saw that one bore the name “Gabrielle’s Swimwear”. No wonder it was unfamiliar to me! Jenny had just bought it today. With a wry smile, I turned my eyes back to the scene below me.
My wife’s admirers looked to all be about the same age, somewhere between 18 and 25. By my count, there were six of them, all bare-chested and muscular. The word “beach bums” popped into my mind. In reality, they were most likely college kids on vacation, and they were all clustered around my wife!
When I had stepped onto the balcony, my intent had been to find my wife so I could join her, but now I had a sudden and overwhelming urge to watch and see what transpired. But they were so far away that I could barely make out who was who. I needed to get closer to the action, but how? If I joined her, the young men would all leave. Then suddenly, it hit me: the hotel’s outdoor café.
It was a good thing the door to the room was self-closing. Otherwise, I’m fairly certain I would have left it standing wide open when I sprinted toward the elevator.
The outdoor seating area sported several dozen cast-iron tables, most of which had four matching chairs. It was mostly deserted at this time of day. Too late for the lunch crowd and too early for the suppertime diners. Walking between the tables beneath the overhanging awning, I found a table about 25 yards from where my wife was lying that offered me an unobstructed view.
Yes, I thought as I checked the sight angles, this would do nicely! I could clearly see Jennifer and her entourage of young admirers, and I felt that familiar tickle of jealous excitement run down my spine. A pair of potted plants formed a partial screen that I hoped would allow me to watch without being observed.
Giving a perfunctory nod to a man at the next table, I took a seat. As I did so, I heard my wife’s voic
e say, “You guys are impossible!” followed by a girlish giggle. Holy shit! It had never occurred to me that I might be close enough to overhear them! Oh, this was perfect! My train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a uniformed waiter at my elbow.
“Good afternoon, sir!” he smiled. “What can I bring you?”
I looked up at him, blinking. “Um, I… Yeah! I’ll have a beer. A stout, please.”
“Yes sir. Coming right up!”
He walked away rapidly, and I turned my attention back to the beach. Looking down from our balcony a couple of minutes ago, I had counted six young men surrounding my wife. Now, there were eight. Peering around the potted plant between us, I immediately recognized two of them as the guys from last night, Scott and Jamaal. The pair of them was sitting on the warm sand on either side of my wife and getting most of her attention.
Seeing him for the first time without a shirt, I was surprised at just how well-muscled Scott was. His pecs were impressive, and he had biceps that were easily twice as thick as mine. His stomach was flat and toned with just a hint of definition. But Jamaal was in another league altogether.
His skin was very dark, the color of fine chocolate, and it was drawn tight over a muscular build that would make a Greek statue blush with inadequacy. God, he was ripped! If Scott’s arms were big, Jamaal’s were massive! And his pecs stood out so far, it looked like you could set a coffee cup down on them and it wouldn’t slide off! His six-pack was deeply chiseled, so defined that I could see the individual bands of hard muscle even from this distance.
The low rumble of Jamaal’s voice was distinctive. Scott’s was higher pitched. I strained my ears to hear them, leaning low over the table, but most of their conversation was too quiet for me to understand from that distance. I caught only bits and pieces of the words that passed between them.
As usual, my sexy little wife looked fantastic. Jenny had on her sunglasses, the same ones she had worn in the car, giant, deep black, designer shades that made her look elegant and sophisticated. Her hair was pulled back into a cute ponytail that bounced delightfully every time she moved her head. She was lying on her towel, propped up on both elbows with one knee drawn up casually, looking up at the guys she was talking to. As my eyes roamed across the curves of her pale body, I felt my heart begin to thump loudly again. Her suit was tiny. Barely there. My God! She was practically naked! Naked in front of eight young men! I felt my cock start to harden in my slacks.
My beer arrived, and I took a sip, my eyes glued on my wife. They were flirting with her shamelessly, especially Jamaal, complementing her, telling her funny anecdotes. She laughed dutifully, flirting back. Twice, I saw her touch the black man’s chest, and both times I had to bite my lips to suppress a groan. I couldn’t help but remember her description of the large black cock she had felt pressed against her on the dance floor last night.
And I felt the same jumpy, panicky feeling in the pit of my stomach that I did last night. Only now, I was starting to accept the fact that watching Jenny around other guys turned me on. I didn’t mind that she was flirting with them. In fact, I wanted her to flirt with them. I wanted to see how far she would go. Particularly with regard to Jamaal.
Even from this distance, I could see her lick her lips from time to time. Her hard little nipples formed visible peaks beneath the fabric of her bikini top. And time and again, she moved her hand up to brush a stray strand of hair back over her ear. Oh yeah! Jenny was definitely enjoying the attention!
She looked so small, surrounded by these hard, muscular young men, the bulging muscles glistening with sweat beneath the hot Florida sun. Her pale, petite body looked so feminine in comparison with their manly physiques, underscoring the erotic tension. I felt my hand tremble slightly as I lifted my glass once more and waited to see what would happen next.
The near-nude state of everyone involved made it fairly easy for my brain to jump to scenes of debauchery. What if the swimsuits were gone? What if she really were naked under their hungry gaze? In my mind’s eye, I saw my black-haired wife in the center of the circle of masculine flesh, eight hard cocks pointing angrily, insistently toward her, demanding her attention. For some strange reason, I imagined Jamaal’s dwarfing all the others.
Just as I was beginning to settle into this naughty fantasy of my wife surrounded by a gaggle of naked, muscular young men, she surprised me by suddenly rolling over onto her stomach on the towel. In unison, eight pairs of eyes immediately dipped to stare at her round little ass, barely concealed beneath the blue fabric of her bikini bottom. My dick gave a little jump in my pants. What was she doing now?
“Would one of you guys mind putting some suntan lotion on my back?” Jenny asked in a voice loud enough for me to hear. She laid her head on her crossed arms and waited.
For a moment, I thought I was going to witness a brawl. Those eight guys practically knocked each other over in a mad scramble as they fought for control of the tube of lotion. Any one of them would have gladly murdered his fellows to be the one to slather my wife with sunscreen. But ultimately, it was the broad-shouldered Jamaal who emerged victorious, brandishing the tube before him like a pagan idol as he knelt beside my scantily clad wife.
“Thank you, Jamaal!” I heard her say as he opened the tube. “You’re a real gentleman.”
Gentleman my ass, I thought with a grim smile. This guy couldn’t wait to get his hands on Jennifer’s tight little body. And I had to admit, I was pretty keen to see it, too!
I nearly passed out with jealous lust as I watched him squirt a line of white, milky sunscreen on my wife’s slender back. I guess I’d never really made the connection before, but seeing the white little globs of liquid splash across my wife’s skin, glistening wetly in the sunlight… God! Maybe I’m just a pervert, but it looked for all the world like semen!
Jamaal’s big, black hands came up and dipped into the creamy lotion, and he slowly began to drag and spread it with his strong fingers, massaging it into her supple, pale skin. The contrast in skin color fascinated me on some deep, primal level that made me feel uncomfortable, yet excited.
He started at the small of her back, just above her glorious, round little ass, and began to gradually work his way upwards, his thumbs rubbing and caressing her narrow waist before roaming up to her ribcage. He took his time, working every square inch of her back under the appreciative eyes of the other men.
Jenny was facing me, her cute little mouth curled in a satisfied little smile of quiet contentment. I couldn’t see her eyes behind her dark sunglasses, but it certainly looked like she was enjoying this as much as I was. Maybe more!
When Jamaal’s hands reached the knot of the bikini top, tied between her shoulder blades, my wife did something that almost made me choke on my beer. With a wicked smile, she reached back and undid the knot! Oh fuck! If she got up now, she’d be topless!
The thought of her bare-chested burned like a hot coal inside my skull. I imagined her rising, his big black hands encircling her perky little titties, kneading the hard nipples. I pictured her leaning back against his muscular, ebony chest and letting the others look at her. It was sick and crazy, thinking about my wife this way, and it filled my stomach with angry butterflies, but it also made my cock so hard it hurt.
Snapping out of my insane fantasy, I looked around nervously, suddenly afraid that one of the other guests might see what my wife was doing on the beach. Might see the raging boner that was tenting my pants beneath the table. Guilty conscience, I suppose! But my fears proved unfounded. I was now completely alone on the veranda, the man at the table adjacent to mine having left at some point. I breathed a little sigh of relief then turned my attention back toward Jennifer.
I was just in time to see her retie her bikini top, and I felt a weird mixture of relief and disappointment wash over me. She rolled over and sat up, reaching for her handbag. After rummaging around for a moment, she extracted her phone and handed it to Jamaal, who tapped on the screen a dozen times, then
returned the phone to her. She smiled sweetly at him, her fingers touching his for just a second longer than necessary. What was she doing? Why had he…? Then it hit me like an atom bomb. This guy had just entered his telephone number into my wife’s phone!
As my racing mind grappled with that idea, I watched in utter amazement as Jennifer handed her phone to Scott, followed by each of the other young men in turn. Like Jamaal, they all seemed more than happy for her to have their numbers.
Once this little ritual was concluded, the guys said their goodbyes and started back down the beach. One of them turned around when they were about 50 yards distant and waved back to Jennifer, who giggled and returned his wave. When they were gone, she plopped back down on her beach blanket and began to look at something on her phone.
Suddenly my own phone buzzed. I had a text. I dug it out of my pocket and looked. Sure enough, it was from Jennifer.
“Did U have fun?”
I looked toward her, but she was lying on her back facing away from me with her phone held up in front of her. Then, I realized she was talking about my sightseeing tour with Mr. Smythe.
“Sure did!” I typed “Just got back. How about U? How was UR afternoon?”
“Absolutely delicious!” came her immediate reply.
“That’s good. Are you coming up to the room?”
“B there in just a sec!”
As I rose from my seat, I had to surreptitiously shift my cock to the side so that I could walk. I was still as hard as a crowbar. I made it through the doors and was hurrying down the hallway when my phone buzzed again. I pushed the call button for the elevator then checked the message. It was a single word. My name.
“Ken?”
“Yeah?” I typed in the elevator.
“U do know I could see you the whole time, right?”
Chapter 7
We didn’t go out that night. In fact, we barely left the bedroom. Jenny had come crashing through the door not 30 seconds behind me and pounced on me like a tigress.
We did it right there on the floor, fucking like teenagers, scarcely taking time to close the door behind us. The boner I had gotten from watching my wife with the young men on the beach below had never subsided, and now I put it to good use! Jenny was more excited than I had ever seen her, really and truly desperate for sex.
